Cut the Lines
by Lapsing-Sanity
Summary: A brief one shot following Daniel's torture of a prisoner. (Does that sound lame? It sounds lame. Ah, well, I would appreciate it if you would read anyway. Rated T because I'm terrible with ratings.)


Daniel saw his mentor raise the knife, then pause and turn the handle to face him, offering him the weapon. So it was to be him who performed the ritual again today. He grasped the hilt of the blade firmly- to him, it was just another tool, and the man gasping in fear on the russet-splashed table was a fresh block of marble to be handled with the utmost care lest he make an error. By now, the vile murderer had long since ceased the pathetic pleas for his life. He was blind, left with sunken holes and raw, mangled flesh where the acid had torn at his eyes and cheeks like a wild animal. His features were twisted with terror, expecting the pain that was to consume the remaining minutes of his miserable existence.

Alexander finished forcing a scrap of filthy cloth into the subject's mouth, knotting it behind his head, and took a single step back from the table with a nod to Daniel. The young man looked upon the victim- no, he was not the victim, he was a treacherous murderer and he had to be punished- and gave the humorless smile of an executioner. His hands were skilled, curling tight around the knife as they tilted it to press the tip against the an's skin. Daniel didn't cut right away, allowing the icy metal touch to torment the subject for a few precious seconds. Then, bracing his arms, he allowed just a little extra strength to travel through the hilt and the man's moans of fear escalated to a scream. The strangled noise was muffled by the gag and yet still slipped around the cloth, escaping from the corners of his mouth with enough intensity to start a dull throbbing in Daniel's temples.

Daniel kept his eyes on the invisible lines his mind had traced onto the murderer's body. He recalled his first ritual only been days before, reminded of everything the baron had taught him about extracting vitae and the cold, strong grip of his hands directing Daniel's. The criminal continued to shriek and blubber as blood started to well around the fine incisions in his grimy skin. Daniel brought his tool around in a delicate curve on the murderer's chest and the man spasmed violently, the jerking motion driving the blade off its course and straight into the muscle. Swearing, Daniel yanked it free, carelessly splattering dark crimson over himself and Alexander.

"Be careful, Daniel," the baron chided, distastefully wiping a red speck from his creased face.

"It was him who moved," his apprentice began to protest before shaking his head. "Alright, Alexander, it won't happen again." After all, the utter necessity of vigilance was not lost on him. He cleaned the wavy blade off on his white sleeve, ignoring the stain that would never be erased. The subject would not last much longer, even with a heavy dose of laudanum. No, this an would be dying tonight... and good riddance.

"Be still," snapped Daniel, continuing his carving while the murderer became ever more colorful with his own blood as the ironic drumming of his heart drove it from his body. An unmeasurable amount of time elapsed before Daniel no longer felt the man writhing beneath his hands, and he lay the knife to rest on the edge of the table. Alexander seemed to have no remark on his craftsmanship; he merely stood with his dark stare on the corpse, silver eyebrows arched as if in deep thought.

Daniel hunched over the body, shoulders shaking in a moment of profound lunacy. "Do you hear me, Guardian of the Orb?" he recited. His eyes, storm-grey and flickering with the remote candlelight, were mad. "I do all of this for you... now, once more, withdraw your Shadow from my domain..."

Suddenly, the young man found himself overcome by fatigue. Alexander turned from the bloody scene, unfazed, and led him back to his guest chamber and left him to his own devices. Daniel collapsed as the world gave a violent sideways lurch. His head cracked against the solid ground and his field of vision fractured in an explosion of dizzying brightness before shutting out completely.

There was a knock on his door, but he did not hear it, and by the time he regained consciousness the shadow that had passed underneath it was gone. He felt a bit better, but not rested. His ached something terrible, bringing to mind memories he would much rather have forgotten.

Cold water cascaded over the rough skin of his hands, removing the rust-colored layer that concealed its true color. Hard as he tried to avoid the gaze of the man in the mirror, he finally gave in and lifted his chin to confront the monstrosity that was himself. He didn't recognize it. The face was young but grim, with shadows under the eyes and a constant twitching of the corners of the mouth as if it wanted to smile but did not know how. He wondered vaguely if he used to smile, but he could not remember.


End file.
